Coming Down the Mountain

'Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” —not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.'

--Luke 9: 28-36

An icon depicting the Transfiguration.

This past Sunday I saw several confused looks on people's faces in my church.  Suddenly our colors changed from green to white.  I was wearing the cope (a fancy cape-looking thing), which I only break out on important days.  And we read Scripture that most folks were pretty certain we had already heard a few months earlier.  The cause of all this confusion was the fact that we were celebrating the Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord Jesus Christ, a major feast day in the life of the Church, not unlike Easter, Christmas, or Pentecost.  Normally if a feast day falls on a Sunday its commemoration gets booted in favor of that Sunday's observance; after all, each Sunday is like a mini-Easter.  However, if the feast is a celebration of a day in the life of Jesus himself, then we celebrate the feast.  We hang the colors of the feast day, break out the fancy cape, maybe throw a little incense, and go big (or go home, right?)!  As for why the readings sounded so familiar, that's because the story of the Transfiguration is always the Gospel reading on the Sunday right before the start of the season of Lent.  We heard these same readings on February 26, complete with a dynamite sermon by Kristen Southworth, which you can listen to by clicking here .  So now you know!  

The story of the Transfiguration always makes me think about the mountains.  That’s due in large part to my growing up on a mountain. As a little kid I spent my afternoons running around in the woods with my dogs, picking blackberries, swinging on our tire swing, and going for long walks on the coal mining job site behind our house, which overlooked our little community of Flat Gap.  After high school the mountain became a sanctuary, a place of retreat from the much busier world; the mountain was quiet, peaceful, and beautiful.  It became my favorite place in all the world. 

View of Flat Gap from the strip job behind the house where I grew up.

In the desert between Galilee and Jerusalem lies Mount Tabor.  It isn’t the biggest mountain in the area but it’s still quite a site to behold, and many archeologists and scholars claim it as the site of Jesus’ Transfiguration.  When you finally make it to the top of Mt. Tabor you are greeted by the enormous Church of the Transfiguration, which is kept up by the Franciscans.  Dozens of outdoor chapels surround it, and just inside the main entrance are two smaller chapels, one dedicated to Moses, and one dedicated to Elijah, just like what Peter wanted. When you look out over the Palestinian landscape you can’t help but be awestruck. It’s a beautiful place, the kind of place that, when you see it, you don’t want to leave. 

View of the Jezreel Valley from atop Mount Tabor and the Church of the Transfiguration

Whether it is Hale Gap Mountain in Virginia, Mount Tabor in Palestine, or any of the mountains my parishioners so often visit here in North Carolina, there is something about the mountain that just makes so many of us feel closer to God.  Maybe it is the altitude, or the beauty of creation that we see around us.  Like Peter, many of us, when we are atop those mountains, we feel so close to God and want only to stay.  We don’t want to leave and head back to our regular lives.  It seems only natural; after all, who WOULD want to give up feeling THAT close to God?

These mountaintop experiences are not limited to geographically high places, though.  Mountaintop experiences are any of those moments when we feel such an awareness of God’s blessings and love for us, likes things couldn’t be more perfect, or the world couldn’t be more beautiful.  A graduation, a wedding day, or a new rector joining a church are all examples of such moments.  They fill us with such joy and excitement, and we cannot help but echo Peter's exclamation: “Lord it is good for us to be here!"  “Let us stay!”

Yet Peter does not get his wish.  The light eventually fades away.  Moses and Elijah depart.  Jesus' visage returns to normal. It is time for them to make their way down the mountain and back into the desert towards Jerusalem....and the cross.

The thing about those mountaintop experiences is that eventually we have to come down, and  the high of being up on that mountain eventually fades.  A graduation is exciting, but soon the graduate has to find a job. Wedding days are lovely, but then a couple has to learn to live with one another.  The arrival of a new rector is thrilling, but eventually the shine fades and the priest and people have to do the nitty-gritty work of ministering together.  We have to come down.

In August of 2009, after having lived there on and off for 25 years, I packed up a van and pulled out of our driveway and said goodbye to the Hale Gap Mountain.  I moved to New York to start seminary, and shortly thereafter my father and stepmother moved off the mountain and into the valley on the other side of the county.  The very thought of losing the mountain, losing the long walks with the dogs, the view of Flat Gap, and the feeling of sanctuary al brought me to tears, especially when I realized I would never be able to go back.  Still,  had I stayed on that mountain I never would have been able to live into who God has called me to be; I never would have had the experiences of New York City; and I wouldn’t be where I am right now.  In order for my life to have its fullest meaning, I had to come down off the mountain.

The last picture of my home on Hale Gap Mountain, taken just before my move in 2009.

We have to come down from our mountaintops, brothers and sisters.  We are not meant to live in a continuous state of excitement and euphoria. Like Jesus and the apostles we have to leave the splendor of the mountaintop from time to time and walk through the brutal and unforgiving desert. Nevertheless, the coming down is not about completely letting go of or forgetting about the mountaintop experiences, rather it is about learning from them, being transformed by them, and heading into the unknown valleys and deserts a different person than we were before.  I’m sure the apostles’ lives were never the same after that day on Mount Tabor.  Nor are our lives the same after those mountaintop experiences.  My life was forever changed by the mountain, as I am sure your lives are changed by those mountaintop experiences like graduations, wedding days, or the start of a new ministry.  We may wish we could hang on to those good and joyful feelings all the time, but it ain’t about that!  It’s about the whole journey, mountaintops and the valleys, the good and not-so-good.  It's about having the grace to come down, to be changed ourselves, so that we can walk through the valleys, and go to our own Jerusalem, to our own cross. For it is from that place that we can look back and find meaning in both the mountaintop and valley experiences, seeing our journey as a whole, and becoming the person that God has called us to be.  That is the great teaching of this glorious feast day, that the Transfiguration is as much about our own journey as it is that of Jesus.

It's easy to feel close to God when we're on the mountain and everything is bright and wonderful. It's the great challenge of our faith to remember that the God we meet on the mountain is also found in the valleys down below.  Some of y'all today may feel like you're on a mountaintop at this point in your lives. That's great!  Cherish the moment. But I pray you'll have the courage and grace to remember that you can't always stay there. Meanwhile, some of you may feel like you're down there in the valley, in the bleakest desert, and you can't even remember ever being on the mountain. I pray you will remember that Jesus spent more time in the valleys and deserts than he did on the mountain, and that you may have the grace to remember that he is walking with you.  

That, brothers and sisters, is good news for not only a major feast day, and everyday.